Escape Enough
by TolkienScholar
Summary: Odin, his wife, and his sons have come to pay their respects to the new queen of Arendelle. Elsa has no patience for the elder Asgardian prince, who is rather too obviously impressed with her beauty, but there is something in the younger that she recognizes, something she knows all too well... Thor AU: Thor was never banished because Odin was the one who led them to Jötunheimr.
1. Escape Enough

**Author's Note: I do not own Loki, Elsa, or their respective movies. Try telling that to my imagination, though...**

* * *

"It is, indeed, an honor… to be able to witness your coronation, my lady." The mighty Asgardian prince raised Elsa's hand to his lips and kissed it delicately. He let his lips linger on her hand, though he was touching only cloth.

Elsa willed her hand to be still, willed the power to stay inside and not blast him away from her. This was absurd. _Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel._ She smiled serenely as he stepped back. "As I am honored by your presence, my lord Thor. Welcome to Arendelle." _Valhalla, why did he have to smile at her like that? If he only knew what a slip of her hand could do to him…_

"Thank you, Queen Elsa," Odin said with a nod. "You are most gracious."

Elsa inclined her head. The royal family of Asgard had done her the greatest of honors in attending her coronation. Never in her twenty-one years would she have guessed that her only thought in meeting Odin the Allfather would be, _Don't thank me. Make your son stop looking at me._

"Loki!"

The smaller and paler of the two princes slowly turned his gaze from the window. "Yes, Father?"

Odin's white brow lowered. "Pay your respects to the queen at once," he barked. Frigga laid a calming hand on Odin's arm, but his expression did not change.

Something flickered across Loki's face, and his head jerked in a stiff nod. "My apologies." He took Elsa's hand and bowed over it as his brother had done. His hand was cold. "Congratulations, my lady," he said. The kiss he laid on her hand was rigid but mercifully quick, and as soon as it was done he let his arm fall. He stepped back, his eyes already wandering again.

Odin frowned, and Elsa sensed that an apology was forthcoming, as well as trouble for the younger prince later on. She cringed internally. _Don't punish him on my account. It's so much better this way._

Before the apology could even begin, though, Thor reclaimed her attention. "My lady, would you do me the kindness… of dancing with me?" He bowed and smiled again, waiting.

_ You have no idea what you're asking._ Elsa glanced at Anna, who was caught up in conversation with an older couple. She hated to use her sister as an excuse again, but she could not dance. Too much movement, too much risk—and too much time with that obsequious, big-headed mountain of muscle. "I'm sorry, I don't dance. But my sister does."

Anna turned her head. "What?"

Elsa gestured helplessly at Thor as the big man turned and offered Anna his hand. "Your Highness, would you give me the pleasure?"

"Oh!" Anna said. She glanced at Elsa. "Um, sure. I mean, I guess that's all right." She hurriedly excused herself to the couple and stepped towards Thor, obviously unsure how to take his upraised hand. She finally settled for grabbing it, as a baby grabs onto an adult's finger. Elsa covered her mouth to hide her smile as Thor made a smooth recovery and led Anna onto the floor.

"We will take up no more of Your Majesty's time," Odin said with a bow. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Elsa watched them walk away, Loki trailing distractedly behind.

* * *

Elsa sighed with relief—silently. The hardest part, the congratulations, was over. They had all done their duty, and she had done hers. Now she had only to stand to the side and talk to a few people from time to time, until the gates finally closed and she was safe. _You can do this. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show._

Thor was coming her way. He had another woman on his arm now—Anna had disappeared in a huff some time ago—and she didn't think he would bother her again, but she turned away all the same. _No point in inviting trouble._

She found herself looking straight into the face of Loki. He didn't see her. He was looking right past her, staring at nothing. Elsa caught her breath. She knew the look on his face…

_Lost._ He looked lost. Lost and scared.

"Are you okay?" The words were out before she could stop them.

At first she thought he hadn't heard. It was a long time before his eyes came back from the nothingness to rest on her face, and even then he did not answer. He only looked at her, his eyes searching her face. Now that he was looking at her, he seemed to see everything—to see too much. Elsa felt frightened._ Conceal. He can't see anything if you don't let it show._

Then he said, "No more than you are, Your Majesty."

Elsa gasped and took a step back, clutching one gloved hand in the other. "How can you possibly know that?" she whispered.

Loki smiled for the first time. "The same way you know it of me." He held out his hand, and before Elsa knew what she was doing, she had taken it. He led her onto the dance floor. His hands were still cold.

"I thought you didn't dance, my lady," Loki said after a moment. The smile turned mischievous.

Elsa's cheeks flushed. "I don't. Didn't. I—"

"Never mind. I wouldn't want to dance with my brother either."

She blushed darker still. "It's not that."

"Of course it is. He's a shameless flirt, and I'm glad someone had the good sense to see through him. He ought to experience rejection once in a while."

"Your brother is a gentleman, I'm sure," Elsa murmured uncomfortably.

"Gentleman?" Loki laughed. "If Thor is a gentleman, then I pity all ladies." He twirled her, and for a moment Elsa was certain that the ice would go spinning from her outstretched hand. Somehow, miraculously, nothing happened. Loki brought her back in and added, "I didn't ask you to dance so we could talk about Thor."

_ Why did he ask me, anyway?_

Loki didn't speak again for a long time, and she didn't try to talk either. She had to focus. She had to keep the power in. Again and again she told herself, _Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show._ Only once, her mantra was broken by a single thought: _This is nice._ She hadn't touched anyone for this long in years. But the thought lasted only a moment.

She did notice that Loki was slowly but steadily steering her to the edge of the dance floor, toward a glass door opening onto a balcony. It took her only a moment to decide to let him. There was something in her that wanted to hear what he had to say. He was so subtle that she scarcely knew how they got out of the ballroom and onto the balcony, but all at once the air was cooler and cleaner, and there were stars overhead. The door closed behind them, bringing the noise of conversation down to a dull hum. They were alone.

"Why did you bring me here?" Elsa asked. It was not an accusation, only a question.

"Because you and I would both rather be out here than in there." Loki took a seat on the railing, and she followed, leaving a good space between them. There was a long silence.

"So neither of us is all right," Elsa said at last. "So what? Most people aren't in one way or another."

"True," Loki agreed. Elsa waited.

Then she saw it. He was holding something in his right hand, a swatch of familiar light blue cloth. _No. Valkyrie, no._ She looked down, afraid of what she would see. Her left hand was bare. Somehow he had slipped her glove off when he had let go of her hand. Elsa looked up, her mind swirling with anger and fear. "My lord Loki," she said in a slow, closely-controlled voice. "Be so good as to give me back my glove."

He was motionless as a statue. "Why?" A smile played around the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were intense. He was searching her again.

_ Conceal! Don't feel! Don't let him know!_ The chant became a scream inside her head. She was desperately clutching a fold of her dress, and the cloth was already beginning to freeze. Ice crept slowly down her dress; he would notice soon if he had not already.

"Prince Loki, _please_."

Loki merely raised his eyebrows.

The ice had reached the hem of her dress. It would spread out onto the floor next. He would slip when he got up, he would wonder how the ice got there, he would see her dress, and then he would know. And soon, everyone would know.

Suppressing a cry, Elsa thrust herself off the railing and walked to the opposite side of the little balcony, as far away from him as she could get. She stood there hugging herself, trying to cover her bare hand and hoping he wouldn't notice the tiny snowflakes hovering in the air around her. _How could I have let this happen?_ her mind screamed. _How did I let him corner me like this? There's no escape. No escape…_

"Queen Elsa?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Don't touch me!" she cried.

"Queen Elsa, look at me."

The voice was gentle. Too gentle for a man who was being so cruel. "No! Just—just give me my glove."

"Elsa, _look_ at me."

Hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Elsa lowered her head and huddled into herself, but a hand came under her chin and forced her head up. She was facing a pair of red eyes, staring back at her out of an iron-grey face covered with strange designs. Elsa caught her breath. _A jötunn._

"Don't scream. You mustn't be afraid of me."

It was Loki's voice.

"I'm no monster, Elsa. I'm just another outcast. I'm just like you."

Elsa closed her eyes, fighting down panic. The jötnar were the stuff of nightmares, of horror stories or fables that adults told children to make them behave. She had never dreamed she would see one standing before her, speaking with a voice she knew, pleading with her to give him a chance.

The hands released her shoulders, and Elsa heard a sigh. She forced herself to look at him again.

"This is my secret," Loki said. "This is what eats at me every moment of every day. I don't understand, Elsa. I don't know why. I always believed I was Loki, son of Odin the Allfather. And then… I learned this. Now I don't know who I am, or where I came from, or how I came to be here. All I know is that I am a beast, hated and feared by all." He was panting, staring down at his stony hands as though they belonged to someone else.

"I don't hate you," Elsa whispered. "And I don't fear you." She reached out and touched his hands. Ice flashed from her fingertips. She snatched back her hand with a cry, but Loki seized it and pulled it back. An icy halo formed around their joined hands.

"You can't hurt me. I, too, am a creature of ice." Loki smiled at her. "So this is your secret."

Elsa sighed, relief and joy and sadness and peace all escaping in one frosty breath. They looked at each other for a long moment, simply enjoying the sharing of their secrets.

"Now give me my glove."

Loki's face fell, but he nodded and handed it over, his skin fading from grey-blue to its former pale. "Yes, my lady." He stepped to the door and laid his hand on the knob.

"Wait," Elsa said suddenly. "Let me breathe free a moment longer."

Loki shook his head. "You and I never can be free. There's no escape from the storm inside."

"No," Elsa said softly. "But to have someone understand is escape enough."


	2. Now They Know

_Escape enough?_ Loki thought bitterly. For her, maybe. She had a kingdom to rule when she went back out there. She had power. He was only the unwanted disappointment of a second son—no, not a son. Not even that. The connection he had felt between them, so strong a moment ago, seemed to melt away into the night. Loki jerked the door handle, reopening the portal to the real world, and gestured through it. "Your subjects await," he said bitterly.

Elsa frowned and tossed him an enigmatic glance as she passed through the doorway.

* * *

Elsa moved away from Loki without looking back. Something—she wasn't sure what—had changed in those last few seconds. They had been on the same page, and then the understanding had vanished. The escape had lasted only a moment.

_Oh, well._ He was one person, one person who, if she thought about it honestly, should not matter very much to her. He wasn't one of her subjects, and when the party was over, he would leave, and she would probably never see him again. Whatever they had shared could never have been other than fleeting. There were more important people to worry about.

Like Anna. It had been a long time since she had stalked off. _She_ would never understand. She thought she could have sunshine and parties all the time just for the asking. _Well, let her sulk,_ Elsa told herself. She ignored the tiny voice inside her that said, _Sulking isn't like Anna._

* * *

The connection had disappeared, but still Loki couldn't stop watching her. She fascinated him. She was doing nothing: meeting and greeting, nodding and smiling—and all of it completely and entirely behind a mask. She was so like him. And yet, so different...

Loki smiled. Trouble was about to materialize. The younger sister was coming, pulling Prince-Hans-the-Whiny-Thirteenth-Son-of-the-Southern-Isles by the hand. He certainly hadn't wasted any time, Loki noted. Although why he should go after the younger sister—

_Oh. But of course._ Elsa would never have opened up to someone like Hans. The southern prince had already decided she was a puzzle not worth his time to solve.

Loki had taken several steps forward before he caught himself. _He won't do anything to her right now, idiot,_ he mocked himself. Besides, Queen Elsa seemed quite capable of taking care of herself. Leaving an illusion of himself to stand by his parents, Loki slipped, silent and invisible, to a place just behind Elsa. This was something not to be missed.

* * *

"Elsa!"

Elsa turned. _Finally!_ Anna was coming back, and she definitely sounded like she was in a better mood. She was dragging a handsome young man; evidently she'd been having fun. _I just hope she hasn't been too forward—_

Anna pulled up short and dropped a curtsey. "I mean, um, Queen. Me again. Um…" Anna's voice turned dignified, or rather, adopted the stiff awkwardness that for her took the place of dignity. "May I present Prince Hans of the Southern Isles."

The prince bowed. "Your Majesty…" He glanced at Anna.

"We would like—" they said together. They looked at each other.

"Uh, your blessing—" Prince Hans continued while Anna laughed. They looked at each other again, and this time their faces were way too close. Alarm bells started sounding in Elsa's head.

"For our marriage!" Anna leaned her head on Hans' shoulder, and together they looked at her, silly smiles on their faces.

"Marriage?" Elsa asked. Anna answered with something between a giggle and a squeal. "I'm sorry; I'm confused." _Surely they couldn't be serious. Surely she couldn't mean it._

"Well, we haven't worked out all the details ourselves," Anna began. "We'll need a few days to plan the ceremony—of course, we'll have soup, roast, and ice cream—and then—" Anna gasped and grabbed Hans's arms. "Wait, would we live here?"

"Here?" Elsa interjected.

"Absolutely!" Hans said, taking Anna's hands.

"Anna!"

"Oh, we can invite all twelve of your brothers to stay with us!"

"What?" Elsa cried, throwing up her hands. "No! No, no, no, no…"

Anna gave her a sharp look. "Of _course_, we have the room—"

"Wait! Slow down!" Anna stopped short. Elsa tried to keep her voice calm. Authoritative. Queenly. "No one's brothers are staying here. No one is getting married."

"Wait, what?" Anna finally let go of Hans and stepped toward her sister.

"May I talk to you please? Alone?" Elsa asked.

"No. What—whatever you have to say, you can say to both of us." Anna stepped back and took Hans's arm again.

_Great. Now it's me against them._

Elsa sighed. "Fine. You can't marry a man you just met."

Anna frowned. "You can if it's true love."

"Anna, what do you know about true love?"

"Well, more than you!" Anna tossed back. "All you know is how to shut people out."

Elsa flinched. "You asked for my blessing, but my answer is no. Now, excuse me."

"Your Majesty," Hans cut in. "If I may ease your—"

"No, you may not, and I—I think you should go." Elsa walked away from them. _Conceal. Don't let—No. I can't. Not now._ Elsa shook her head. "The party is over. Close the gates."

* * *

Loki watched her walk away. This was not exactly how he had expected it to go. A sharp rebuttal of Prince-Hans-the-Whiny-Thirteenth-Son-of-the-Southern-Isles, yes. An interesting sibling conflict, yes. The closing of the gates of Arendelle once again, no. Perhaps he and the queen were not as alike as he had first thought, but he was far too interested in the events here to leave now.

"Elsa, no! No, wait!" Anna cried.

_Odin's eye, she isn't going to let it drop, _Loki thought.

Anna rushed forward and made a grab for Elsa. She missed, but she came away with—Elsa's left glove. _Oh, no._

Elsa turned, the same fear and terror in her eyes that he had seen on the balcony. "Give me my glove!" she cried, snatching at it.

Anna pulled away. "Elsa, please! Please, I can't live like this anymore," she pleaded.

Elsa looked at her, and Loki knew without seeing it that there were tears in her eyes. "Then leave."

The sisters stood there, panting. Then Elsa's shoulders slumped and she turned away, misery and defeat in every line of her body. Anna stared after her.

"What did I ever do to you?"

"Enough, Anna."

"No, why? Why do you shut me out? Wh—why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of?"

"I said, 'Enough'!" Elsa spun around to face her sister, and as she did, a stream of ice flew from the fingers of her bare hand. The ice took root in the floor and grew outward, creating a sharp icy barrier several feet thick between her and the rest of the company. There were gasps and cries of astonishment and fear. Only Loki, in all of the crowd, was silent, marveling.

Elsa groped for the door with her gloved hand, clutching the hand that had betrayed her to her chest. Finding the door, she flung it open and fled.


	3. Selfish

It was not until she reached the mountains that Elsa began to think. They had all stared at her in confusion, in fear, in horror—everything her worst imaginings had told her they would feel. And she, she had been unable to form a single word, a single thought. She had been frozen. _Frozen._ Like the fountain. _Valhalla, why had that woman brought her baby so close to her? Did she not realize what she could have done?_ Elsa had not been near a baby since… since Anna was a child. And she had never forgotten what she had done to her then…

Her thoughts tumbled, one on top of another, no order, no sense. Nothing made sense. An hour ago she had been the queen, and now she was an exile.

Elsa dropped to her knees and cupped a handful of snow to her face to cool her fevered brain. _Fevered. First I'm frozen, now I'm feverish. _She shook her head. _Stop it._ She got up and kept going.

Why had Anna snatched off her glove? Why couldn't she just leave things as they were? Why did she always have to be such a spoiled, selfish, immature _child_? The world wasn't all happy endings. _No happy ending for me._

_He_ could have spoken for her. He knew. He understood. Why had he just stood there gaping at her like everyone else? Had he been? No, not gaping. He knew. But where had he been? Why hadn't he come to her and defended her from their horrible stares?

Somehow that thought seemed to bring back her reason. She felt suddenly ashamed. _What are you thinking?_ she berated herself. _You're being even more selfish than Anna. Why should he risk his secret just because you, practically a stranger, couldn't control yourself and gave away yours? That's absurd._

She nodded, agreeing with herself. Then she tucked the thought away, moving Prince Loki to the back of her mind. He had no bearing on her situation now. He would go home and work out his own problems, and now she needed to work out hers.

Elsa glanced around her, realizing for the first time where she was. She was on the North Mountain, climbing steadily toward its summit. Snow lay thick and deep all around her, as it always did on the mountain, even in summer's height. She was completely alone, the only marks in the snow her own footprints, quickly swept away by her cloak dragging behind her.

_Maybe things aren't so desperate after all, _she thought.


	4. No Answer

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Loki?"

Silence.

"I know you're in there, brother."

Still no answer.

"Loki?" The sound of the doorknob jiggling uselessly. "Loki, you had better let me in."

Loki groaned and rolled over. "Break down the door."

"You know perfectly well I can."

Silence again.

"Loki, please. Mother and Father are worried about you."

"Then why didn't they come?"

"Would you have let them in?"

"No."

Silence again.

"You know, a room is a lot less private when it doesn't have a door."

No answer.

"Loki, if you don't let me in within the next five seconds, I promise you I will break this door down."

No answer.

"Have it your way, then."

"Try the knob again, blockhead."

There was a pause. Then the knob turned and Thor came in.

Loki was standing at the window, looking out at the sunset. It was magnificent, the strength, the vibrancy, the _power_ of its hues, the way one color flowed into another without seam or break, the way the clouds reflected the light and sometimes, like tonight, seemed to make a strange and mystical landscape. When he was small, Frigga used to tell him that on nights like this you got a glimpse into Valhalla. Loki knew now that it was only a folktale, but sometimes he would pretend to himself that he still believed it. _What would it be like to live in Jötunheimr, never seeing the sun?_

He felt Thor's strong hand on his shoulder. "Little brother?"

_But I'm not your brother._ It wasn't the first time he'd thought it, but it still hurt. Far more than it should have.

"What?" Loki asked, still looking out the window.

"I don't know," Thor answered quietly. "Only you can answer that."

"There are some things you can't force."

Thor let out a breath, too soft to be called a sigh. "I'm not going to try to force it. But you know it will help you, to talk."

Loki shook his head. "No. Not this time."

"Loki, don't shut me out. Please. I only want to help you."

Loki finally looked at him. "Can you not understand that you can't help me? This is different. It's not something going and bashing a few heads together will fix. And I don't want to talk about it." He turned and faced the window again.

"Okay," Thor said. "So it's not something I can fix. At least stop trying to bear it alone. Tell me what's wrong."

"No!" Loki laughed humorlessly. "So that's it. I'm too weak to bear my own problems; let the mighty Thor take it on his shoulders because he's so strong."

"Loki, you know that's not what I meant."

"No? What, then? Am I a frightened child, who still needs his big brother to protect him from his nightmares?"

"Loki, please—"

"When will you and Father get it into your thick skulls that I don't need to be mollycoddled, that I can stand on my own?" _That I deserve to know the truth about myself from my father's—Odin's—own mouth?_

"Leave Father out of this," Thor said, now beginning to get angry himself.

"Father's the center of it!" _Oh, no._ He had said too much.

Thor could usually be relied on to miss hints. He would fire back another angry phrase, and the hint would be past and gone. But Thor was quiet. Fear seized Loki, fear that he was thinking, working it out. Loki's mind raced. _How much would Thor be able to guess? How could he divert him from the truth?_

But all Thor said was, "Father and I love you, Loki."

Loki lowered his head. He had always doubted that Odin loved him, and now that he knew he was not Odin's son, he was certain. But Thor loved him. There was no question of that. And Thor's love made him blind.

"I know," Loki whispered. "But you have to let me deal with this on my own."

Thor sighed. "All right. But whenever you're ready to talk, little brother, I'll be here." He squeezed Loki's shoulder again and left.

Loki looked after him, feeling the tears gather in his eyes. _I wonder if a jötunn can freeze his own tears._ The thought steadied him, replaced sentimentality with anger and fear again. He knew those well enough; he could deal with them. He could not deal with the knowledge that his brother and his mother were not truly his.


	5. Mirrors and Lies

Loki stood in front of the mirror, his breathing slow and heavy. His mind was intensely focused. It still took a great deal of effort to make the transformation; strange, that a mask could become more natural than the true form. It began at his heart, a burning cold that seared through his body with an agonizing pain. A wonderful pain.

He didn't know why he kept doing this to himself. He had had the full-length mirror installed when they still shared this room, as a jab at Thor and his perfect blond locks. Nothing got under Thor's skin as much as teasing about his hair. Then they had gotten older, and Thor had moved to a room of his own, and Loki had almost forgotten about the mirror. Until now. From a brotherly joke, it had become a place for Loki to indulge the morbid desire to see his other form again and again.

Loki placed his hand against the mirror. For a moment, nothing happened; then frost began curling out from his fingers and clouded over the mirror, obscuring the hideous, sneering iron face. He turned away with a shudder.

_Why?_ He had asked it hundreds, thousands of times. This time, though, something was different. This time he wanted to ask it aloud, and he wanted to ask someone who knew the answer. Not Odin. No, he had not sunk so low yet. Nor his mother—_no, not my mother—Frigga—not my mother…_ No, that would be worse than telling Thor. It would break her heart to know that he knew the truth. Knew that she had been lying to him all his life, too. Just like Odin.

_No!_

Loki's hard grey hand smashed into the frozen mirror. It shattered, showering him with shards of ice and glass.

He slipped through the palace invisible, letting down the illusion only when he reached the stables. He looked like an Asgardian again. _Replacing one illusion with another._ Loki saddled Vonbrotne. She leapt from the stables without his urging and galloped toward the Bifröst.

* * *

"Welcome, Loki, son of Odin." Only Heimdallr could mock someone in a voice entirely devoid of emotion.

"Come now, Heimdallr, let's have none of that." Loki gave a brittle laugh. "You know why I'm here." He had left the mare at the edge of the bridge and approached the Guardian on foot. Heimdallr had not stirred, had not acknowledged him with so much as a flick of his golden eyes.

"I do."

"And? Are you going to tell me what it is my right to know?"

"I am not."

"Of course not," Loki muttered. _Why had he even bothered coming here? When had Heimdallr ever revealed anything someone truly needed to know? Especially to him. Especially… to a Frost Giant._

"It is not my place to tell you," Heimdallr said. "It is your father's."

"My father?" Loki laughed mirthlessly. "You mean some—some Frost Giant Odin probably killed when I was an infant?"

"No. I mean your father, the one who raised you and loved you as his own son. That has not changed."

"No," Loki scoffed. "No, nothing has changed. I merely know now that the man I thought was my father has been lying to me all my life."

"He lied to protect you."

"From what? That I—I'm the monster parents tell their children about at night?" Loki stammered, his voice breaking. He shuddered again, remembering that hideous face in the mirror.

Heimdallr was unmoved. "From the shame and fear you feel now. He meant for you never to know. I knew that there was danger in your going to Jötunheimr. I would have spoken with your father—"

"He's not my father!" Loki snapped.

Heimdallr took no notice. "—had he come to me first. Instead he brought a delegation bent on one thing and one thing only: learning how the jötnar entered Asgard without my knowledge. Had I made any attempt to stop them, they would have suspected, as some were beginning to already, that it was not without my knowledge that the jötnar entered. And if Asgard had begun to doubt the fealty of its Guardian, then none would have been safe. I had to trust to fate and the success of negotiation. The insolence of the jötnar and the impetuosity of your brother Thor made that hope vain."

"He's not my brother," Loki said, but without the same vehemence.

Heimdallr finally turned his golden eyes on him. Loki shivered; he could never hold that piercing gaze for long. "I can say no more," the Guardian told him. "Ask your father."

Loki's eyes slid away. "I can't."

"Then I can do nothing more for you." Heimdallr turned and strode toward the golden globe behind him.

Loki stood, silent and pensive until Heimdallr was nearly out of sight. Then, "Wait!"

Heimdallr turned and looked at him expectantly.

"The queen—the queen of Arendelle. What of her?"

Heimdallr sighed. "Your answer is here. Do not look for solace in the ice queen."

"What happened that night? After we returned? Did she keep her kingdom?"

"She is still the queen."

"And the people? They have accepted her?"

Heimdallr shook his head.

_Maybe we are not so different after all._ "Send me to her."

"Do not look there for your answers. You will not find peace in Arendelle."

Loki stepped into the golden globe and crossed it, standing face to face with the Guardian, daring to meet his eyes. "If Odin is still my father, then I am still prince, and I still have the right to command you. Send me to Arendelle."

Heimdallr sighed and lowered his head. "As you wish, my prince."


	6. Is It Enough?

He hadn't expected the cold. It hit him with a blast the instant his feet touched the ground. He shivered; the temperature must have been well into the negatives. Loki reached deep within himself, felt the icy burning and his body shifting. The cold made the transformation easier. He could still feel it, but now it felt pleasant, good,_ right_.

He ought to have expected this, he supposed. She had been trying so desperately to conceal, but the secret was out now. There was nothing more to conceal. But this…

Loki looked around, getting his bearings. He was on a mountain, that much was clear, and a remarkably high one at that. Arendelle, or at least the part of it he had seen, was out of sight.

"Heimdallr," he said under his breath, "if you have sent me to the middle of nowhere just to keep me away from—"

At that moment he turned fully around and saw it. A palace, made entirely from ice, standing near the mountain's peak and reached by an icy staircase. The work was flawless, magnificent, too pure to have been made by any human tools. This was magic. And that could only mean one thing: the people of Arendelle had cast out their ice queen and forced her to build a home for herself alone in the snow.

Loki watched the red light of the sunset filter through the ice. It was beautiful. He had never seen power like this; no jötunn could create such perfect loveliness. Had she known, before, what she was capable of? If she had always kept her powers so closely controlled as she had tried to that night, then probably not.

_Is it enough?_ he wondered. _Can ice and power be enough to satisfy, even when one is all alone?_

It was as though all the weeks of anxious wondering had been bringing him to this question. He had not dared to use his own ice powers yet—beyond the frost on the mirror, that once—for fear someone would discover him. But he knew he could do it; he could feel it. And he knew that it meant power. But to embrace it would be to leave a part of himself behind, as Elsa had done. Now, only she could tell him whether it was worth it.

He began to climb. Within moments, he had reached the staircase; his jötunn body was perfectly suited for climbing in these conditions. That disgusted him as much as anything else about his jötunn self. He was made for the cold, made never to feel the freshness of a spring breeze or the summer sun on his face. Made to be trapped forever in the dreariness of winter.

But one thing was undeniable: Queen Elsa made winter beautiful. Her ice was clear as glass, interwoven with patterns of snowflakes. The palace in Asgard had nothing to compare with this. Loki walked slowly, lingering, examining the pristine work and enjoying the feel of the smooth ice beneath his fingertips. When at last he reached the great doors, he paused. He slowly raised his hands to push them apart_—_and instantly jerked his hands away. In all of this beauty, he had momentarily forgotten his own ugliness. Those iron grey hands did not deserve to touch Elsa's perfect ice.

_Never mind,_ he thought, summoning again the mask that was his Asgardian form and watching his skin fade to pale. _Wouldn't want to frighten the poor girl anyway, coming in as a monster._ He laughed bitterly and raised his hands to the doors again. _Then again, is a lie any more worthy than a jötunn?_ he asked himself. He shook the thought off and pushed the doors open.

* * *

"Get it together," Elsa ordered herself. "Control it. Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel!"

There was a cracking sound. Elsa looked up with a gasp. Icy spines, as thick as a man's arm, were growing out from the walls. It wasn't working. She wasn't trying hard enough.

She started again. "Control it. Conceal. Don't feel." _Don't feel the desperation because you can't get it right. Don't feel the guilt that the people of Arendelle are freezing to death because of you. Don't feel the fear that Anna—_

"No!" she screamed, twisting in agonized fear. She felt the power escape again. It was all out of control.

She heard a groan.

Elsa whirled. There was a man in the doorway. He was reeling back against the door, his hands clutching his chest, his skin rapidly turning to blue-grey. She ran toward him without thinking, as though there were anything she could do…

_No!_ Anguish ripped through her soul. She recognized him. It was Loki, the one who had shown her kindness and understanding. And she had destroyed him. He was kneeling now, one hand on the ground, the other on his chest, panting.

"Loki!" she cried. She burst into tears. "Loki, I'm so sorry, I'm so terribly sorry, I didn't mean to…"

He looked up at her. A puzzled look passed over his face, and then sudden understanding.

"It's okay, Elsa. I'm fine, truly." He got to his feet and took a step toward her.

She jerked back. "Stay away!"

"Elsa. I'm not hurt. I promise."

It was that same gentle tone, just like when he had taken her glove away. She couldn't bear it. He shouldn't be so gentle with her after what she had just done to him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered again.

"Elsa, listen to me." She felt his fingers under her chin, lifting her head up. She saw the red eyes again, the hard iron skin. It was just like on the balcony. "You made me change form. That's all. It burns. It was sudden; I was startled. But you didn't hurt me, I promise. You cannot hurt me. I, too, am a creature of ice. Remember?"

Elsa felt weak. _He's all right,_ she thought. _I haven't killed him._ For some reason, it only made her cry harder. Her sobs became uncontrollable, her breathing rapid and shallow. Suddenly she felt strong arms around her. She tried to push Loki away, but her strength and her will both seemed to have dissolved. At last, exhausted, she leaned against him and let him stroke her hair and murmur comforting things that meant absolutely nothing. She was too tired to fight anymore.

* * *

So that was the answer. It wasn't enough. Elsa had tried embracing who she was and living alone with her power, and it had driven her nearly mad. Loki held her, whispering he knew not what into her hair. Comfort was useless, and he himself had none now, nor hope for the future either. It was as he had told her that night they met: there was no escape from the storm inside of them.

Gently, he lifted her up and carried her toward the stairs leading to the upper levels of the castle. She offered no resistance. She was worn out, physically and emotionally. She needed rest. She had been here several days; there must be a bed somewhere.

The interior of the palace was beautiful, but it was obvious that Elsa had lost control. Jagged spikes jutted out from the walls, and what had from the outside looked like slanting rays of the sunset in here turned the ice a glaring, angry red. Loki almost felt threatened, as though a hostile eye was watching him at every step. Small wonder that such an unwholesome environment had driven her mad.

There was a bedroom, tucked away in a tower. He laid her down. She did not stir; she might have already been asleep. He backed out and closed the door.

_Now what am I going to do?_ he wondered, staring at her through the door's distorted image. He looked down at his hands, still stony grey. Then slowly, he pressed them against the ice and let the power he'd been restraining go. Within moments, the door was covered with a thin layer of crusty white ice. It was far from beautiful, but at least it would give her some privacy.


	7. Mercy and Anger

Elsa opened her eyes. She was lying on something firm and cold. The bed. The gauzy coverlet of frost had been draped over her. She sat up, still disoriented. Her hair was disheveled, and pieces were escaping from her braid hither and thither. She rubbed her eyes. Why could she not remember coming here?

She caught sight of the door, now opaque rather than transparent and pure. "I don't remember doing that," she said aloud. Her voice sounded high and thin in the silence. She felt inexplicably frightened. She was clearly not alone here. But who else could have frosted over the door?

Then it all came back, like a series of blows. Loki. He had found her. She had struck him, killed him. No, not killed him. Killed Anna. Where was Anna? Had she really struck her? What would happen to Anna if she had? Was there a way to reverse it? Should she try to find her? But no, she was too dangerous. Better to stay here, far away from anyone.

She could still kill them. She was killing the people of Arendelle. Would more come searching for her? Her power would kill them, too. Only Loki was safe from her. Was he still here? Had he come to help her? How could anyone help her?

Elsa flung herself off the bed, just as she had thrust herself off the railing of the balcony when Loki had trapped her. There were too many questions, all of them unanswerable. No, not all of them. She could find out if Loki was still here. She needed to find out.

She stopped to rebraid her hair, using the ice as a mirror. Even so, she looked a sight. There were deep shadows under her eyes, and her dress was wrinkled, and frayed at the hem where fragments of ice had grown up from the floor and torn it. _No matter,_ she thought. _It's only Loki._ It wasn't the reassuring thought she had meant it to be. _Nothing I can do about it, anyway._ That wasn't reassuring either.

She started down the stairs.

He was on the lowest level, near the fountain. His back was to her, and at first she could not tell whether he was in human or jötunn form. Then a grey-blue hand came briefly into view. Elsa let out a breath. He had said she could not hurt him, but she would prefer him to be in jötunn form, just to be safe. She was sure she could not hurt him that way.

But what was he doing? Shards of ice littered the floor. A wall of icicles had grown up, rough and white and wickedly sharp. Surely her power could not have created all this while she slept. But then…

"Loki, stop!" she screamed.

There was a sound like shattering glass. Loki whirled, his red eyes wide. "Elsa! What is the matter?" He strode toward her.

Elsa felt her composure beginning to snap again. She wrung her hands. "Don't you see? It's too much power. We can't use it. Look at what I've done already—"

"What have you done?" Loki took her hands. Ice flashed out from where their hands joined, but Loki held her tightly.

Elsa lowered her head. "I have destroyed my kingdom." After a moment, she looked up. She had to tell him everything. It was too late now to save Arendelle; she did not know how to undo what she had done. But maybe, if she spoke now, she could at least save Asgard from a similar fate. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Shh!" Loki threw up a hand.

Elsa swallowed hard. "Loki, I know you don't want to hear this—"

"No." He glanced at her, his head cocked toward the door. "I do, truly. But wait. Do you hear that?"

She cocked her head, too. "Voices."

Loki nodded. "One called loudly a moment ago. I think I recognized it." Before he could elaborate, there came a roar and several loud crashes.

In a movement so quick she scarcely knew what was happening, Loki drew his sword and thrust Elsa behind him. "What is that?

"Marshmallow," Elsa answered, her heart sinking.

"What?"

"My ice monster. Let me go, he'll hurt them." She tried to push past him.

He held her back. "I believe they may be here to hurt you. Stay here. Let me handle them." He began moving toward the door.

Elsa waited until it had closed behind him before rushing to the door after him.

* * *

Loki paused at the top of the stairs. This... marsh-creature really was an ice monster. It was about the size and shape of an ogre, but the long spines of ice sticking out of its white back and its sharp icy claws and teeth made it yet more fearsome. Ogres fought always in packs, but Loki guessed that the marsh-creature could do as much damage alone as an entire pack of ogres. It was fending of the entire party—nine or ten, at a guess—at the same time. Loki wondered that it had not attacked him when he came to the ice palace; perhaps he had been quiet enough not to waken it.

"The queen!" came a shout from below.

Loki whirled. Elsa was peeking out from the doorway. She met his eyes and blushed, like blood on fresh snow. He waved her back. "Go! Get inside; go to the upper levels. I'll take care of this."

She nodded. He saw a flick of her hand before she withdrew, and a tiny stream of magic flew into the battle below. Loki turned to look. The marsh-creature had stumbled and gone still, giving Prince Hans—_I knew it was he_—the chance to slice through its left leg. The ice monster plunged over the cliff, taking out part of the stair railing with its huge upraised hand as it fell.

_Laufey take the queen's mercy, that marsh-creature might yet have saved her,_ Loki thought. He paused a moment. He had used a common expression, but its relevance to him had certainly changed. He shook his head. That was a question for later. _At any rate, I shall hardly be more merciful than the ice monster if they have come to kill her,_ he thought.

The men had started up the stairs. There were nine of them: the prince, two soldiers whom he had seen with the duke of Weasel Town, and six others in the livery of Arendelle palace guards.

Loki walked down toward them. "Well, if it isn't Prince-Hans-the-Whiny-Thirteenth-Son-of-the-Southern-Isles," he called. He saw a look of fury pass across the prince's face. Then it smoothed away as Hans recognized him.

"Well, well. Loki, the Pale One in the Shadows. Have you managed to get anyone's attention yet? I should imagine not. How's your wonderful brother?"

A red wave of anger passed in front of Loki's eyes. "You dare," he whispered. Throwing up a screen to make himself invisible, he sent an illusion into the midst of them, brandishing his sword. The men scattered like checkers when the board is thrown, crying out, "Sorcery!" as they had when Elsa had shown her power. Three of Arendelle's soldiers ran all the way back down to the mountain. The duke's men ran higher, and one of them slipped over the side where the railing has been demolished, saved only by his friend's quick action.

Prince Hans slashed at the illusion, reducing it to nothing. "I know your tricks, little Loki," he growled as he turned back.

He jumped. Loki was standing directly in front of him, laughing. "Only some of them," Loki said. "Really, if you can't recognize such a simple diversion, I shall be forced to conclude that you are even more simple than Thor."

Hans gaped at him.

"Now," Loki said, his voice growing cold and biting. "Return home and abandon your designs toward the queen. You shall not harm her."

The prince seemed to gather his composure then. "I don't know what you're talking about. My men are under orders not to harm her. We only want to bring her back so she can unfreeze Arendelle. Her people are dying from the cold."

_So this is what she meant by having destroyed her kingdom._ Loki flashed the smile that used to melt the heart of teachers and nursemaids after every mischief and burn the conscience of anyone who tried to punish him. "Awfully concerned about Arendelle, aren't you?" he asked innocently.

Hans put a hand over his heart, as though injured by the question. "But of course. It is the home of my true love, Princess Anna."

"Is that so?"

Loki felt Hans's uneasiness under the effect of the smile. He was afraid, afraid that Loki would give away his plans in front of the soldiers. Loki had needed no confirmation that his guess had been right, but if he had, this would have been it.

"And if I may be so bold, Prince Loki—" Hans adopted the mask of honor again.

"You may," Loki interrupted impishly.

"If we are to speak of threats against the queen, it is you who have been alone with her in this secluded place for who knows how long. How do I know that your intentions toward her are honorable?" The men, who had gathered around him again, began to whisper among themselves.

The smile slipped. Loki felt anger coursing through him at the accusation, and with it, cold. Burning cold. He had never changed his form without intention before. He had to end this now, before they saw him as he truly was. His sword flashed out and pressed against the prince's neck. Hans squirmed, a different kind of fear in his eyes now. The other men lifted their swords, but they looked as ready to flee as to fight. Loki laughed. They did not know fear yet.

It was then that he realized that the duke's men were gone. He turned suddenly, realizing that they must have gotten behind him when he had come down to face Hans. The stairs behind him were empty. They must have entered the ice castle._ Elsa!_

"Look, men! It is not a prince, but a jötunn who threatens us!"

Loki turned back, knowing he had waited too long. Then there was a rush of warmth in his abdomen, and pain, blinding him. A ragged breath ripped from his lungs as he felt Hans pull his sword from his stomach. The last thing he remembered was Hans whispering in his ear, "No one can claim it was anything but self-defense."

Then he was falling into the abyss below. Darkness took him.


	8. Monster

Elsa had obeyed Loki and gone to the upper levels—to her balcony. She had seen it all.

The duke's men were coming. She could hear them, sliding on the icy stairs and cursing their slow progress. She had seen the bigger one pull his companion back onto the stairs and then the two of them start up the stairs toward the palace. And she had seen the moment at which Loki had realized they were gone. But she had not been in time to stop Prince Hans. She had screamed Loki's name as the prince had pushed him into the chasm, but she could not guess whether he had heard her. Or whether he was already dead.

_He said I couldn't hurt him. He was the one person I shouldn't have been able to hurt, and now I've killed him, too. This is all my fault._

There came a deep-voiced shout from behind her: "We've got her!"

Elsa spun around. The duke's men had arrived. They had crossbows, and they were aiming right at her.

"No, please," she begged. Not that she deserved their mercy after what she had done to Arendelle, to Anna, to Loki…

The larger man took aim and fired. Elsa flung up her hands reflexively and waited for the death she could not deny she deserved.

Nothing happened. Slowly, unbelievingly, she opened her eyes. The bolt had been caught in a shield of solid ice that had sprung up in front of her. Death, whether deserved or not, had been thwarted for the moment.

The men began to circle her, wary now.

Elsa was breathing hard. _What should I do? If I let them kill me, will it undo the damage I've done? _she wondered. _Will it unfreeze Arendelle? Whatever I've done to Anna, might killing me possibly undo it?_

"Stay away!" Elsa cried, sending another blast of ice along the floor as the men advanced again._ Let me think!_

The larger man tripped and tumbled over his companion, but they were on their feet again before she could react. They kept lunging toward her, and Elsa had to move quickly to keep them away, wondering all the while if she was even doing the right thing in trying to stay alive.

Turn. Blast. Dodge. Watch. It was a dangerous dance. They were on either side of her, attacking with barely a pause between. _Just a moment! _she wanted to scream. _Wait just a moment while I figure this out! _But they would not.

_Loki._ Was he dead? That was one thing her death could not undo. The wound from Prince Hans's sword would not vanish away once she was gone and her magic—her horrible, hateful, destructive magic—was ended. But could anything be done for him? Or was it too late?

She had made her decision. She wasn't going to die yet. Not until she knew whether anything could be done to save Loki.

The smaller of the duke's men was raising his crossbow to shoot. Elsa pushed against him with all her might. Spikes, razor sharp, sprang from the ground and pinned him to the wall at the shoulders, waist, and armpits. The crossbow still hung from his right hand. Elsa brought up her hand again, and another spike began growing towards his exposed throat, slowly, slowly. _Just to keep him busy,_ she told herself.

She turned to the other. He was taking aim at her. Ice shot from her fingers and knocked the crossbow from his hand. She allowed herself a sudden smile at her precision.

He was frightened now. He was going to try to run. Elsa flung up barriers of ice on either side, not pausing to consider why she was stopping him. He was trapped, nowhere to go but the balcony. He could not reach her now. Elsa built up a block of ice in front of him, pushing him back against the doors. There was the sound of grunting as he pushed back, and then of cracking, tinkling ice. The doors gave way and smashed outward onto the balcony railing, shattering it. The duke's man was caught behind her ice block, slowly being forced toward the edge. _Almost there…_

"Queen Elsa!"

Elsa jumped as the cry behind her shattered her concentration. She whipped her head around and found herself staring into the face of Prince Hans. _Murderer._ A wave of hatred overwhelmed her. She would deal with him next. She drew herself up for one last push—

"Don't be the monster they fear you are," the prince cried.

All at once, Elsa stopped. She stared at the prince, barely comprehending. What was he saying? _He_ was the monster.

But what, then, had she been doing?

Elsa paused, panting, looking from the man on her left whose neck she had nearly pierced with an icy spear to the man on her right clinging to her own ice to avoid falling to his death. The world seemed to have frozen. What had she done? She looked back at Prince Hans.

It happened in the space of an instant. The prince lunged. There was a shot, a whistling, then the sound of ice breaking. Elsa looked up. The chandelier was falling. She ran—she fell—she knew no more.


	9. Brother?

"Brother?"

_I'm not your brother._

The thought appeared out of nothingness, like a spark in a pitch-dark room. Where it came from, he could not tell. But with it came pain. It might have been inside or outside him; he did not know. A great weight was pressing down on him, dulling his senses. The world was black.

Only two things were clear: the voice, and his own denial.

* * *

"Brother?"

_I'm not your brother._

Why did the voice keep hounding him? Always—How long? Minutes, hours, days, nights—it was an endless stream of darkness. A void. But no, there were other sounds now, too, people moving around and talking. They were distant, irrelevant. The voice was what mattered. The voice he always had to contradict. And the pain; that mattered, too, until the weight came down again and crushed him, and the pain with him.

* * *

"Brother?"

_I'm not your brother._

Loki forced his eyes open. They seemed to resist his efforts, as though they were frozen shut. Thor's face, staring anxiously down at him, seemed separated from him by a haze. He saw Thor turn his head and motion to someone behind him—a healer, no doubt. Telling them he was awake.

Thor leaned down again, and Loki felt a pressure, a squeeze, somewhere far away. No, on his hand. That was his hand resting on the bed. Thor was holding his hand.

"Brother? Can you hear me?"

_I'm not your brother,_ Loki thought. It had become second nature to him, this denial. It never seemed to hurt him any less, but he had to keep thinking it, as though perhaps if he repeated it enough, he would stop wishing so hard that the thought were not true.

Thor repeated the question, and Loki nodded. His head felt heavy. There was no pain in his abdomen, though; the two things combined must mean he was under some sort of sedative, that dulling influence the Ljósálfar healers used in extreme cases. He hadn't been put under it since he was a small boy, when they had gotten into one of the armories and Thor had nearly sliced his left hand off during a play sword fight. Loki remembered the feeling, the agonizing, terrifying pain replaced suddenly by a dull stupor.

How long had he been without consciousness? And what, in the meantime, had happened to Elsa?

He remembered everything. Hans had stabbed him, and he had fallen. He should have been dead; instead, he was here. But he hadn't been the one Hans had been trying to kill. It was Elsa. How long?

He sensed, more than saw, someone come up beside Thor. He felt himself poked, prodded, checked, though it all seemed far away, as though it were happening to someone else. He just wanted the healer to go away so he could talk to Thor. Heimdallr must have brought him back; the Guardian would know what had happened to Elsa. Maybe he had told Thor.

Suddenly, the distant prodding came close; something moved; and all at once he was being stabbed all over again. He gasped with pain. He had barely felt anything else, but he felt this. There was a flurry of movement beside him, and the warm pressure on his hand grew firmer.

Then a hand came down to rest on his forehead—not Thor's, smaller, thinner. They were putting him under again. Loki struggled against the hand, but through the sea of pain, he could not tell whether he was moving at all. Within moments, his brother—no, Thor—faded once again out of sight. Loki lost consciousness again, his mind still shouting Elsa's name.

* * *

"Brother?"

_I'm not your brother._

Loki's eyes opened again. The haze had lifted while he slept, and he could see Thor's face, creased with worry. The room was dim, and Loki realized that at last he could distinguish time, and it was night.

"Thor."

The contraction of muscles to push out that single syllable caused another spasm. Loki felt the pressure on his hand again, but otherwise, Thor did not move. The pain passed, and healer appeared. Loki was relieved. For now, it was worth the pain to be aware.

"I'm here, little brother," Thor whispered. "Be still. Don't try to speak."

Loki shook his head. "Elsa?"

Through the returning haze of pain, he heard Thor sigh. Then, a reluctant nod. "Heimdallr told me some. Father told me the rest."

_Father? What does Father—Odin—have to do with this?_ Loki wondered. The Allfather knew much, but it was Heimdallr who was his eyes.

Then it hit him. He had been in jötunn form. Thor had seen him. All that time he had been thinking, _But I'm not your brother,_ Thor had known.

And still he had said, "Brother."

In a sudden rush of fear, Loki looked down at the hand Thor held. Pale. Not blue-grey.

Thor squeezed his hand. "Mother," he said by way of explanation.

Loki nodded and raised his eyes to the ceiling. He had to take this in. Thor knew he was a jötunn. His mother—both his parents—no, not his parents—knew that he himself knew. How many others had seen him?

He gathered his strength, preparing for the pain that would follow asking that question. But he stopped before a word had come out. That wasn't what mattered now. Elsa was more important. He opened his mouth to ask about her again, but Thor spoke.

"No. They said we could try letting you come out of it, but I have to keep you calm and not let you talk. You start trying too much too soon, they come and put you under again. Understand, brother?"

Loki gave a nod. Given the proper amount of manipulation, the likelihood that Thor would actually tell on him was pretty small, but Loki was too tired to manipulate. As long as he could get information, he would behave.

"Good. Now, there are things you want to know, right?"

Loki nodded, with an effort restraining himself from opening his mouth and enumerating just what all of those things were.

"Which first? Your story, or the queen of Arendelle's?"

_Simpleton, _Loki thought, not without affection. It was just like his brother—Thor, that was to say—to order him not to talk and then promptly ask a question that required a verbal answer. He waited impatiently for Thor to recognize his mistake.

It took several seconds.

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry," Thor said. "I'll ask one at a time—Hey since when do you actually obey me?" There was a twinkle in his brother's—Thor's—eye.

It was a fair question, but not one that mattered now, nor something he could answer anyway, under the circumstances. His frustration must have shown on his face, for Thor suddenly sobered up.

"Elsa?"

Loki nodded, hard.

"Very well, then. She's all right, for now…"


End file.
